


Epiphany

by tsurai



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, M/M, Rough Sex, Shinto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurai/pseuds/tsurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><b>Epiphany</b> - (n.) a manifestation of a divine or supernatural being.</i>
</p>
<p>By this point, Stiles thought he really should be used to random creepy people showing up in his room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> For my writing meme on [tumblr](http://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com/).

By this point, Stiles thought he really should be used to random creepy people showing up in his room. For some reason his house seemed to be the center for the pack et al to gather whenever something was going down, and other supernatural entities seemed to follow suit. Example number one was close on his heels as Stiles opened the door to his bedroom. The nogitsune had been well-behaved all week, barely needling Scott and Derek at the pack meeting (Stiles didn’t count his barbs at Peter, as neither liked the wolf and he could honestly care less if “No” took potshots at him all day). Still, No had been hinting around at some _recompense_ before he left to feed in parts unknown. Stiles wasn’t about to deny him – he was a teenage boy, after all. No walked in behind him, fingers looped through Stiles’ belt loops as though getting ready to pull his jeans down when the nogitsune froze, forcefully yanking Stiles to a stop.

“Hey, what-” he started, but No was looking past him with dark eyes, his assumed face twisting in a snarl. He turned to see what the fox was looking at.

In the corner of the room stood a figure, long russet hair burning like fire in the light of the setting sun coming through the bedroom window. Two narrow eyes the color of the full moon peered at them from a dark and narrow face, but Stiles was used to glowing eyes. What really stood out were the person’s clothes, made of thick cotton with large baggy sleeves and pants that reminded Stiles rather a lot of Princess Jasmine’s from Aladdin, except they weren’t sheer and the entire ensemble was a forest green. He only had a moment to take this in before the being spoke.

“ _Konnichiwa_ , _yako_ and companion.” Its (his?) voice was heavily accented, but Stiles couldn’t place the origin of the speaker because suddenly No snarled, flying out from behind Stiles with claws extended.

“Shit-” Stiles started, diving for the jar of mountain ash he kept under the bed. He’d never seen the nogitsune act so furious except in the case of Mrs. Yukimura, but that was a slow-burning rage. In this case he’d gone from ice to blazing hellfire so fast that Stiles could feel it thrumming across the bond that still lingered from their split.

No never reached the figure. There was a flash of golden light and he was flung across the room into the opposite wall. Stiles winced as No’s face rippled, melting from a young Asian man with bleached hair to what he mentally referred to as the nogitsune’s default: Stiles’ own face, albeit paler and full of sharp edges. Stiles cast the mountain ash circle even as No scrambled back to his feet.

“Inari- _sama_ ,” the fox spat as if the name pained him. “It really is you.”

_Inari. Where have I heard that before?_ Stiles thought, not taking his eyes off the redhead. His cell was in his pocket and, magic or not, there was no way Stiles could take on someone who could smack No down like a fly. _If I could just call Scott_ …

“Stiles!” he heard through the door, then thumping on the stairs. He’d forgotten Dad hadn’t left for his shift yet, and No crashing had been really loud. His dad was coming up and since Inari had dispelled No’s illusion…

A fox illusion. Foxes and Inari.

There was a god in his room. _There was a god in his room_ , along with a dark trickster spirit and a magic-wielder, if Stiles counted himself. Shit. “Dad! Don’t come up,” Stiles called, backing to the door without looking away from Inari. It was too late, and Sheriff Stilinski appeared in full uniform with his handgun drawn.

“What’s this?” John asked, taking in the sight of Stiles with a jar in hand, another Stiles brushing himself off with a furious scowl, and the red-haired androgynous being in a ring of mountain ash. “Stiles?” he asked glancing at No, who happened to be closest. The nogitsune didn’t even look at him, too busy glaring at the god in the corner.

“Over here, Dad,” Stiles sighed, lowering the jar when the trapped man didn’t seem inclined to move. “Just, um…”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the redhead cut in. “I am Inari Ōkami, and I have come to see just what sort of being bound a nogitsune so thoroughly.” He said the last with short bow towards Stiles, moon-bright eyes shining with mischief. “Though I confess I did not think they would be so angry at me.”

Dad shot Stiles a look, still flickering between him and No. Oh. Right. Dad knew that No was _something_ , he had to be when he was constantly hanging around Stiles and Scott, but he’d never seen No’s true face before. Shit. He was distracted by No stalking over to him, paying Dad no mind as he stood between Stiles and the deity in his bedroom.

“And you’ve seen him,” No hissed, now speaking in register Stiles could never quite manage with his own voice. “We are fulfilling _kitsune-mochi_. We are bound to his will, so your precious thunder kit is safe from us. You can leave.”

“Now _yako_ , I know that isn’t true,” Inari tutted. “You have your own body, you could leave whenever you want.”

No stiffened, and Stiles clenched his jaw. Yes, technically their contract had been fulfilled when he gave No free reign of his body to exact revenge on Mrs. Yukimura. The first week after Deaton forcefully separated them, he’d woken up every morning with a small pit of dread in his stomach, wondering if he would find the nogitsune had disappeared into the ether.

But he hadn’t. More often than not, Stiles work up with the nogitsune in his bed, clutched at him like the first time the fox touched him with bandaged hands and whispered, “Let us in.”

And No looked like he was going to go for Inari’s throat again, ash barrier or no. The claws were a clue. Without thinking Stiles grabbed the nogitsune’s hand, heedless of the sharp edges dragging red lines into his skin and the stab of pain. The pain was gone the next second anyway, as No automatically drew it through his skin, hissing at the distraction.

“Stiles!” Dad barked. _Oops_. Purposefully injuring himself by way of his surprise doppelganger probably wasn’t the best way to go.  He made to let go but No’s hand turned to grip him back, thankfully clawless.

“Don’t let us go,” said No, not looking away from his object of ire. When Stiles looked, Inari stood with his hands clasped in front of him, gaze locked on their linked hands.

“I had wondered why they, he now, I suppose, chose to stay so long in Beacon Hills,” the god hummed thoughtfully. “Even with a nexus such as the nemeton, there is not much power to be had here. But you,” and here he met Stiles’ eyes, “you’re something special. Any _zenko_ would give a tail to enter _kitsune-mochi_ with you.” Then Inari grinned and clapped once sharply. Between one second and the next, the space where a man stood was filled by a huge, pure white fox with one bushy tail. It peered at the nogitsune, seeming to grin even without lips. “Do let me know when you’ve calmed, _musuko_. I suspect we will have much to talk about.”

And then the fox god was gone. There was no flash of light and Stiles hadn’t so much as blinked. His ash circle hummed on, unbroken.

“Stiles, would you mind telling me what the hell is going on,” Dad broke in. He had his gun lowered but not put away, finger off the trigger. His eyes darted between Stiles and No, probably cataloguing the few minute differences and the many, many similarities. Also, No still hadn’t let go of Stiles’ hand.

“Ah, yeah. About that…” he waved his free hand at the space where the god had stood, “I have no freaking clue. As for him,” Stiles jerked his chin at No, “uh, I can explain?”

His dad sighed, finally holstering the sidearm as he settled into a _this-better-be-good_ stance. Then his cell phone rang, and Stiles thanked god (though definitely not Inari) for small favors. The sheriff visibly fought with himself for a moment, but it was they both knew it was his work cell. “Sheriff Stilinski,” Dad finally answered. Stiles took notice of his knuckles tightening and releasing as the man listened silently. Finally he paused, looking at them with a furrowed brow. “Just a moment.” He tucked the phone against his chest, blocking the microphone. “There’s been a big accident on Main,” he said to Stiles, face pulled into a grimace. He looked between him and his doppelganger, obviously conflicted.

“It’s fine, Dad. You should go if they need you,” Stiles coaxed. No still hadn’t let go, but neither had he started snarking at them, too busy staring at the spot where the god had been.

His dad was still wary. “I can stay, it’s fine.”

“Really,” Stiles said. “I promise I – we – will be here when you get back.”

“Are you sure? I won’t come back to find you injured or-” he paused, “replaced?”

“Definitely not.” Stiles tried to pour as much reassurance into his voice as he could muster. It seemed to do the trick, because after a drawn out moment Dad put the phone back to his ear.

“I’ll be there in ten, deputy. See you there.” He hung up. “You and…this one,” he jabbed a finger in No’s direction, “will be right here when I get back, understand me? We _will_ be talking about you lying to me, _again_.” Stiles nodded vigorously. “Okay then.” And, with tooth-grinding slowness, Dad departed. Stiles stood still for a moment, waiting. When the nogitsune did nothing, he turned his hand to grip the fox’s wrist.

“No?” he asked tentatively. Stiles was still reeling. He could process on the basest level what had happened – he _was_ capable of reading a Wikipedia article, so he knew who Inari was and some of the terms the god had thrown around. But that’s where his brain shorted out. A god. A god in his bedroom. The mind boggled.

His words seemed to bring No back online, because the next thing Stiles knew he was being crowded against a wall with the nogitsune plastered to him, clutching as his shirt as the fox attacked his mouth with a biting kiss.

“That filthy _yar_ _ōgami_ ,” No said when he finally pulled away. “In our territory, speaking of _zenko_ to us as if they held a candle to our power. The god cannot have you, do you understand?” He framed Stiles’ face with familiar hands, though Stiles could feel the prick of claws again. The sensation sent a prickle of heat down his spine, and he knew No could smell it by the tilt of his head as the fox leaned to rub their cheeks together. “You’re ours.”

Stiles swallowed, let his hands run soothingly up his back. “Of course, yours,” he replied. True, they’d never talked about it, but the words came easily. No kissed him again, this time slower, scraping over his bottom lip until the fox drew away, smirk finally back full force. "We think it’s time for our compensation, now.”

“What? Oh. _Oh_.” He stumbled away from the wall, breaking the ash line as No pulled him along, hands at his jeans as he pushed Stiles on the bed. The nogitsune didn’t give Stiles much time to react, yanking down his boxers with one hand while the demon’s other hand worked his suddenly _very_ interested cock out. “Fuck!” he yelled, because No went from a long lick to swallowing him down in one smooth motion. Stiles’ hand flew to his doppelganger’s hair, his body arching without permission as he pushed No down onto his cock. No went with it until Stiles hit the yielding back of his throat. “Oh my god, I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that,” he whined, trying to pull the nogitsune off a little bit. The other just sucked harder in response, almost purring when he choked in response. If Stiles concentrated he could feel No’s anger, still there, but redirected into more constructive activities. Positive reinforcement worked well, Stiles had noticed. Then he wasn’t noticing anything at all, because while the nogitsune bobbed on his dick he had one hand on his balls and the other at Stiles’ lips, both thankfully sans claws. He sucked them in, copying on No’s fingers what No was doing with his tongue. He could already feel the tension building in his gut and leg muscles, a signal of impending orgasm. Stiles moaned around the fingers, pressing No down with a fistful of hair. When he came it was inelegant but glorious, his balls drawing in tight as the heat surged up into No’s mouth and down the fox’s throat. Stiles cried out and bit, gnawing at No’s fingers until he withdrew them, replacing them with a mouth that tasted like jizz and blood.

“We’re going to fuck you, Stiles,” No said when he pulled away with eyes like the void and a flash of silver teeth. “We’ll fuck you until you scream and beg for us to stop, until you smell like us inside and out. Would you like that?”

Stiles whimpered.

* * *

 

Hours later, when they lay in total darkness with his dad due home in a little while, Stiles thought to ask, “What does _musuko_ mean?” No stiffened. Silence reigned for several long moments. “…You don’t have to answer.”

The nogitsune said nothing. Finally Stiles sighed, resigning himself to Google translate in the morning. He’d just about drifted off when No finally spoke in a small voice.

“Son. It means son.”

**Author's Note:**

> Japanese:  
>  _yako_ – “field fox”, an alternate reading of the word nogistune  
>  _kitsune-mochi_ – when a person enters into contract with a kitsune spirit. Usually this contract is for life, or the individual kitsune is tied to a family bloodline  
>  _zenko_ – kitsune who still serves Inari  
>  _yarōgami_ – bastard god


End file.
